


The Hungry Wolf

by bluebright_l



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:14:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebright_l/pseuds/bluebright_l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flashback when Lady Dustin makes Theon take her to Winterfell's crypts. I don't even know. I have a lot of feels, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hungry Wolf

Lady Dustin left him standing amid the ruins of the First Keep, snow drifting around his ankles and landing soft as a sister’s kiss on his gaunt cheek. When she’d rounded the corner, her men following behind like a pack of dogs, _like Ramsay’s bitches_ , he reached out blindly to clutch at a fallen gargoyle with his maimed hand. It was all he could do to keep himself upright, the cold boring into his bones and making his missing fingers ache. _The crypts, though..._ The crypts were warmer than he remembered. He stared dully at the massive ironwood door, cursing Barbrey Dustin for dredging up old memories he’d thought long gone.  
  
\-----------  
  
Theon hated the crypts beneath Winterfell, hated them with all the passion a lonely eleven-year-old ironborn boy could muster, which was quite a lot, not least because Robb Stark and his bastard brother Jon loved them. The cold stone kings with their rusted swords and snarling stone wolves bore him no love, the darkness of the crypts seemed to swallow the light from candles and torches alike, and although it was spring above, it was always cold below the ground.  
  
Today they were playing a game Theon especially hated, where two of them would hide and the third would seek them out. _A stupid game to play down here,_ he thought, blowing out his candle and setting it at the stone feet of the Lady Lyanna. She was beautiful and sad, though her stone face had the proud look of the Starks, just like all the others. He snuck down the dark hallway, watching as Jon slipped behind a pillar, crouching down behind some old Lord Stark. Theon knew it was only a lord because the statue didn’t have a crown, and he supposed he should know _which_ Stark, seeing as how Maester Luwin was teaching him their names, but he didn’t care to know.  
  
He went on and on down the tunnel, until the lords turned to kings, and the light from Robb’s candle was all but gone. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Theon glanced at the Kings in the North on either side of him, trying to decide which one would do for a hiding place. That was what was so _stupid_ about playing this game down here...there was nowhere to hide except in the spaces behind one statue or another. It wasn’t about finding a good hiding spot, or searching well, but just waiting in the interminable dark while the seeker went from tomb to tomb.  
  
Theon came to a halt in front of a statue, standing stock still for a moment. He could barely see the face in front of him, but slowly, features came into focus. The king in front of him was thin to the point of gauntness, with a skinny beard and long, tangled hair. The wolf beside him, thin as its king, wasn’t sat back on its haunches like most of the others, but seemed to have been caught readying to pounce, lips drawn back in a snarl. They looked half-starved and wild, king and wolf both. Impulsively, Theon slipped behind the king on his throne, tucking himself away in the darkness of the crypt, one hand on the wolf’s tail to steady himself.  
  
Distantly, he heard Robb shout a warning, and then his boots echoing along the tunnel. He found Jon in a matter of moments, and soon their voices grew close, the light from Robb’s candle barely invading the heavy darkness where Theon stood, holding his breath.  
  
“He never goes back this far,” he heard Jon whisper. “You didn’t look carefully enough behind King Brandon.”  
  
“I looked behind _all_ the Brandons,” came the reply, Robb’s tone faintly condescending. Their light was close now, seeping around the edges of the king in front of him.  
  
Theon wondered if he was a Brandon, too. Before he knew what he was doing, he drew his lips back in imitation of the stone wolf in front of him and growled deep in his throat. He heard the younger boys gasp, but soon two curly heads, one auburn and one black, poked around the statue, Robb thrusting the candle out in front of him.  
  
“Found you!” He crowed, laughing when Theon shoved him out of the way and squeezed out from behind the statue. “That was a good spot, you never go back this far.”  
  
Theon shrugged, rubbing his thumb over one of the stone wolf’s exposed teeth. “I like this one.” The candle made the shadows around them dance, and the wolf’s eyes seemed to sharpen. He pulled his hand away quickly, then felt his cheeks flush with shame. _Rodrik or Maron wouldn’t be scared of a stone wolf, or Asha either,_ Theon told himself, deliberately putting his hand back on the wolf’s muzzle. The stone was surprisingly warm under his palm. “Let’s go up...this game is stupid.”  
  
Jon and Robb exchanged glances...they’d only just come down, and Theon knew they thought he was scared, but he didn’t care. It _was_ a stupid game, and there were much better things to do in the castle or the godswood. He looked up at the king again, to avoid having to look at Robb or Jon. The sculptor had done his job well, whoever he’d been; Theon could see the look of the Starks in that stone face, proud and stern and unsmiling.  
  
“We could go see what Jory’s doing,” Robb said finally, tipping his candle slowly to let little drips of wax fall to the floor. He took a few steps, dripping wax methodically. “Look, I’m making us a path to find our way back...”  
  
“There’s only one way back,” Theon said, giving the stone wolf a final pat. “Who is this, anyway? Another Brandon?”  
  
Jon and Robb both turned to look at him, but it was Robb who answered. “No. That’s Theon Stark. The Hungry Wolf. Didn’t you know? I thought that’s why you picked him...”  
  
“No, I didn’t know...” Theon stared at the statue. Was he named after this King in the North? He doubted it, given the history between the ironmen and the greenlanders, but one never knew. _The Hungry Wolf..._ The name sounded like something out of one of Old Nan’s stories, and Theon wondered if the old king’s ghost haunted Winterfell. “Why was he called the Hungry Wolf?”  
  
The light flickered in the tunnel as Robb tilted the candle again. “Dunno,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Wanna go ask Maester Luwin?”  
  
Theon glanced at the stone king again, the Hungry Wolf with his name, and smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, lets.”  
  
\------------  
  
 _And now Luwin is dead, and Robb too. There are ghosts in Winterfell,_ Theon thought, not for the first time that day. _And two named Theon...the Hungry Wolf and the Turncloak. But I only ever wanted..._ Pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders, Theon shook his head wearily, snow creeping under his collar. He wouldn’t let himself dwell on it, it was no use now. As he crossed the yard, the wind swept down through the fallen walls and snow filled in the trail he left. It was as if he had never been there at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't make Theon Stark up, fyi. He's real... Well, real in GRRM's fictional world. I won't even get into what I think it means that the King in the North Theon shares a name with is known by the nickname the Hungry Wolf, but suffice it to say, I'm positive GRRM did that on purpose.


End file.
